Those who have not tried mating and raising birds have lost a great deal of pleasure. Besides being intensely interesting, one learns many things worth knowing.
Once I heard a lady say that she thought all women ought to raise birds before trying to bring up a family, for there was so much to be learned from the birds.
I had a friend who was very anxious for me to try my luck at bird-raising, so one day she brought over her handsome green and gold canary. At that time I had a number of birds, among them three which I thought were females,but I was only sure of one, a little girl sparrow. Blondell—a canary—was given to me for a female, but several said they were sure it was a male. She was an exquisite yellow of different shades, with a topknot of yellow tipped with white, then black, with a catching little bang.
Judy—a canary—was bought for a singer, but the person who gave her to me said she had never sung, but she thought the reason was because she had the asthma. I think she was a goldfinch, for she was very small, with black wing feathers, and a pretty black topknot parted in the middle. I had named her after one of my dearest friends, so I immediately called the green canary Ned after her better half. Ned knew more than any of us, for, as soon as he was let out of his cage, he flew over in front of Judy and sat down before her, never noticing the other birds, and poured the most entrancing song right into her ears.
It certainly was love at first sight, and for a year their devotion was something rare to see. Then Blondell made trouble in the family. Ned and Judy’s courtship was of short duration, and soon they began housekeeping in good earnest. I gave them a cage, and hung it on the wall, so they would not be bothered with the other birds. During the day they went where they pleased, but, when night came, they always went back to their cage and perched as close as they could to each other.
After the eggs were laid, and Judy had to sleep on the nest, Ned perched as close to the nest as he could get.
Judy’s nest was most beautifully made, a perfect symphony of colour, and a delight to the eye. I gave to her bits of pink, blue, yellow, green, and white cotton, little pieces of dainty coloured baby ribbon and pink string. She wove the ribbons all in with the cotton, then festooned the outside with the pink string,and on the top she laid chickweed with its tiny white blossoms. When she was making her nest, I noticed she had the cotton very high above the basket and none in the bottom, so I thought I would lend a helping hand and fix the bottom for her. A more angry bird I never saw when she discovered I had been meddling with something I knew nothing about. She stood on the top of the nest and scolded for some time, then reached down and took out all of the cotton I had put in and threw it on the bottom of the cage. When she was ready, she put the cotton in to suit herself.
She laid four eggs, but none hatched out, so she and Ned took the nest apart, and a new one was made of all new material, more beautiful than the first.
She laid four eggs again, but the long strain of setting was telling upon her, for Ned was not a good nurse, and did not like staying at home and feeding her. If it had not been for me, I am afraidshe would have gone hungry many times. Finally one egg hatched out, and it was not as large as a bumblebee. Unfortunately, the chick only lived one day. By that time it was so warm I took the nest away, but Ned’s devotion seemed to increase instead of diminish. Every morning they would kiss each other, and every night before going to sleep, and they always slept side by side. This went on for a year, and they were such a happy pair. In the spring they went to housekeeping again, and everything was going on in the most blissful way when Monie and Blondell thought they would like a beau and go to housekeeping, too. So they began to flirt and coquette in a most shocking way with Mr. Ned, a married man. I used to say: “You naughty, wicked girls, you better stop your nonsense, for Ned will never leave that dear little wife of his, for he loves her too dearly to waste any time on either of you.”
But, alas, a little flattery was all that was needed to make him false to the loving wife, who simply adored him and was his slave.
Judy and Ned had been in the habit of making love to each other on the top of the large mirror over my dressing-table. They would promenade back and forth and toss their pretty heads, and you could easily imagine all the charming little tales of love Ned was confiding to Judy, and every little while they would kiss each other.
Sweet little Monie, with her dainty, quiet dress, did not seem to have any charm for Ned, so she took up with Mack, who was English like herself.
One day when Judy was sitting on her nest, and Ned was getting uneasy and very tired of staying at home and waiting upon her, Miss Blondell sallied forth with every feather preened, until she was a mass of shimmering gold. She went up on top of the mirror and promenaded,well knowing admiring eyes were gazing at her, for how could any one help looking at such grace and beauty? She soon began making eyes at Ned, and calling to him in a sweet, cooing voice to come to her. He simply could not resist her and was soon by her side. Judy scolded and scolded, and called to him many times to come home, but not the slightest attention did he pay to her, and really, I do not suppose he heard one word she said, for he was so completely fascinated with that exquisite blonde. Judy stood it as long as she could, but when Ned kissed Blondell before her very eyes, that was more than any one could expect her to endure. She flew out of her cage, over on to the mirror, and if she did not tell the little blonde lady just what she thought of her, I am much mistaken. She then turned to Ned, in her old affectionate, bewitching way, with her pretty little head cocked on one side, and asked him to kiss her, but he refused for the first time. She went back to her nest broken-hearted, and never interfered with them again. Soon Ned and Blondell had the face to go to housekeeping right next door, Ned going from one house to the other, but Judy never allowed Blondell to enter her door.
BLONDELL
BLONDELL
I feel sure that Ned really loved Judy the best, for he spent more time with her than he did with Blondell, but there was something about Blondell that he could not resist, for she simply hypnotized him.
I was ill at the time, so I had plenty of leisure lying in bed to watch them. My nurse often said she was so interested in the birds she could hardly take care of her patient.
Blondell was punished for making so much trouble for Judy, for none of her eggs hatched out. Then Ned’s mistress took Blondell to her house and mated her with her bird, Dick. Blondell was only too delighted to have a new lover, andshe soon forgot all about faithless Ned. She raised one lovely green and gold bird like his father. I brought them both home, and named her son “Mike” after one of the most wonderful boy singers the world has ever known or ever will. Mike was always very uneasy, and acted more like a wild bird, and it was almost impossible to keep him in his cage. He was full of all sorts of antics and loved to torment his mother.
I looked forward to having a fine singer, but he was not contented in this small town, so one warm, bright morning in the fall he went abroad to cultivate his voice, and we have never seen him since.
I still have Blondell, and some day I hope she may have another son.
Dona Marina came to the hospital, not as a patient, but as a destroyer of patients. Since that time she has been a great deal of care with her numerous kittens and a very bad burn on her side and head. I accidentally turned a tea-kettle of boiling water over her. I dried her as quickly as possible, then covered her with talcum powder, and kept her shut up in the hospital all day.
She was a great sufferer, and for hours was in perfect agony. Still, I did not realize for days how badly she was burned until the hair began to come out. For three months she had a scab as large as my hand.
She bore her sufferings very bravely. When the scab began to loosen, she would come to me every day and ask me to cut off the loose edges. She would stand very quietly while I trimmed them with my manicure scissors.
Every one said the sore would not heal, and, if it did, the hair would never come in, but the scab is all gone, and the hair has come in and almost covered the bare spots.
I so often hear people say: “I would like so much to keep a cat, but I cannot on account of my bird,” or “I would enjoy having a bird, but of course I cannot, because my cat would kill it in less than a wink.” I used to think the very same way. When a child, I had a number of canary birds, which went down my neighbours’ cats’ throats if they did not mind, so I gave up keeping birds, as I liked cats so much better, and I did not have one for years, until “Little Billee” came to me.
I did such wonderful things with Taffy. I think all that is needed is a great deal of patience and to understand cat language and have cats understand you.
Two years ago a neighbour’s black cat was determined to kill my canary Blondell, and I was just as determined she should not. I fought her for a year and a half, but it was simply impossible to keep her out of the house, as our doors and windows were opened nearly as much in winter as in summer, and she would be in the house hours before I knew it. I was not allowed by her owner to put bells on her, so as to warn Blondell and me of her approach, and the first thing I would hear was a crash and the cage fall on the floor. Often when lying down I would hear Blondell screech, and open my eyes to see the cat on top of the cage. As the cage always stood on a low table, it was very easy to reach.
We did everything we could tofrighten the cat to keep her away, but I would not hurt her or let any one else. One day the woman who was cleaning for me gave her a dreadful beating with a wet floor-cloth, and said: “Now, I guess you will go home and stay there.” I came out just as the cat was going and said: “Poor kitty.” She turned and fairly flew to my side, and from that day to this she has been devoted to me.
When I found she had fully made up her mind to come here and live, and nothing would keep her away, I said: “I will teach her not to kill my bird.” My friends all laughed in my face and said: “The idea of your thinking you can teach an ill-bred cat, who has never had any bringing up, the same as you taught an intelligent cat like Taffy.”
I soon found the cat was very affectionate, and that she loved me, and that is the best beginning you can have. I named her Dona Marina, as she was black enough for a Spanish lady. Hercoat was black and shiny and her head and paws very small. In a few days she knew her name, so I felt she was quick to learn. From the day I gave the name to her, she has never been called anything else, and always answers me and will carry on long conversations with me. If she is up in my room and I go to the foot of the stairs and say: “Dona Marina,” she answers me. If I say, “Dona Marina, are you up-stairs?” she answers twice. I always invited her to come into my room when she came up-stairs, and, if she went after Blondell, I closed my door, then punished her by slapping her paws and talking to her, but never sent her out of my room. She soon understood she could stay there as long as she behaved herself, and spent many hours without me there. Still I was not quite sure of her, and every one said: “She will kill Blondell some day.” When I went out of the house, I sent her down-stairs and closed the door. That went onfor many weeks, when one day I went to my room about four o’clock. Dona Marina had been asleep on my bed since luncheon with Blondell and no one else. It seemed a pity to wake her and make her go down, so I thought I would take the risk, and went out and left her. Several friends said they would not feel sorry for me at all if, when I went home, I did not even find a tail feather. I laughed and said I had no fear, as I fully trusted Dona Marina, but I trembled just the same, and, when I reached home at six o’clock, I went to the stairs and called in a shaky voice: “Dona Marina, are you up-stairs?” and when the answer came, “I am here,” I fairly flew up the stairs, and there, to my great joy, was Blondell happy in her cage and my little black lady stretched out full length on my bed, greeting me with loving eyes and a sweet song. Since that day I never gave her a thought. She sits on the table by the cage and looksat Blondell, never putting up a paw, and lies down and goes to sleep by the side of her.
Dona Marina very seldom walks on the floor; she simply flies through the air. She comes on a run from the kitchen, lands in the middle of the dining-room table, then jumps into a chair by the back parlour door, into a chair in the back parlour, into another chair, then on top of the table. If she is on her way up-stairs, she makes one grand leap, which lands her in the front parlour by the door going into the hall. She never pauses, but on she flies up the stairs into my room, over the top of the bird-cage, on to my work-table, and sits down, as if it were the only way to enter a room.
She is a very intelligent cat, and I often wish she did not know so much. Like all my pets, she is spoiled, and does everything she wishes to. Last spring she had her first kittens, and I, of course,was the trained nurse, and such a time as I had. As four babies were too many for me to have up-stairs, two were taken away at once and put in a pail of water. Then my trouble began. She took on so, and seemed to think I could bring them back, and would not give me any peace until I fished them out of the water, dried them on a towel, and brought them into the parlour. She took them at once up to my dressing-room. She had her bed in a nice basket, with linen sheets, in an old-fashioned chest. After a few minutes, I brought them down and she came for them. After taking them back three times, she found she could not bring them to life, and gave up. When I had gotten into bed, she came to me, talked, then went back to her babies. After keeping at me for a half-hour, and I did not make any move to get up, she came and took right hold of my chin. After she bit me three times, I thought I had better get up and see what shewanted. She soon made me understand she wanted the basket taken out and put on my bed, so no one could get her babies. I did so, putting a kimono on the foot and covering the basket. She got into the basket, and there was no more trouble. I did that for two nights, and then she seemed to think there was no more danger and she stayed in the chest.
One night she insisted upon my getting up at three o’clock. I thought she must be hungry, and went into my dressing-room and saw that there was no milk in her dish. I also felt there was a great change in the weather and saw the ground was covered with snow, so I put down the windows, then went down-stairs after the milk. When I came back, I found Dona Marina in the basket with her kittens, looking very happy. I offered her the milk, and she said: “No, thank you. It was too cold for my darlings, and all I wanted was the windowput down.” I could have choked her with a good will.
When it was time for her children to learn to get out of the basket, she lifted them out and put them on the floor, and asked me to take the basket. One was black as coal, and the other maltese. The black one we named “Ping,” and the gray one “Pong,” and they were very different in all their ways.
My trials began when their mother thought they needed something more than milk. Every one said: “You want to look out for Blondell, now Dona Marina has her kittens,” but she went outdoors for all of her game, and the dear baby birds she used to bring in almost broke my heart. She would bring them to me first, but, if they were not dead, they were wounded so they soon died.
One day she carried a large fish up to them just as the man brought it in the paper. When they were four weeksold, she thought they ought to sleep on the foot of my bed instead of in their basket. I was determined I would not give in to her, but, after keeping me awake until after two o’clock one night, I said: “Go bring your babies, and we will all go to sleep.” After that they slept on the foot of my bed until they were given to a very nice little girl when they were two months old.
Dona Marina mourned for them for two weeks, and would carry up food in mouthfuls and look all over for them.
Two months ago Dona Marina presented me with four more babies, which was a little more than I had bargained for. Two were taken from her before she hardly had time to count, so she did not make as much fuss as she did the first time.
A little girl came to see them, and said: “Why don’t you name them after their mother?” I said: “I do not think it would be nice to call them both DonaMarina.” She said: “Oh, no; call one Dona and the other Marina.”
Dona is twice the size of Marina, is black and white, and looks like a little circus pony. Marina is most beautifully marked. Her head, back, and tail are black, face black, also her legs, white whiskers, and a tiny white line between the eyes. Under her chin white about as wide as your finger, then broadens and goes half down the neck, broadens out again, narrows at the breast bone, broadens again, and goes all the way down. She has four white paws, so you see she has a very swell black and white costume.
Marina is full of mischief, but very affectionate. Dona is much more quiet and dignified, but is also affectionate, and loves to have me take him on my shoulder.
They were born in the same basket, and Dona Marina went through the same performance about taking them out whenit was time to have the basket on the floor, also the same performance about sleeping on the foot of my bed, and, of course, I had to give in to her.
At the present time Marina is on my lap and Dona on my shoulder. They have full sway of the house, and what they cannot do is not worth doing.
One day when I came in, I thought there must have been an army of children in the parlours, by the sight that met my eyes. All the books from the lower shelf of the bookcase were on the floor. They had gotten up on the magazine table and thrown all the magazines on the floor. Sofa pillows were everywhere but where they ought to be. A large corn-cob in the front parlour, and corn-husks here, there, and everywhere, with scraps of paper in every direction, and Dona and Marina fast asleep in the empty scrap-basket, while their mother lay curled up in an easy-chair.
During the day they go outdoors andall over the house, but when the house is lighted, they seem to think up-stairs is the place for them.
We have had great fun catching flies. They come and ask me to help them. I take my handkerchief, and, when I get a fly in it, they come and take it out, and sometimes there is quite a fight to see which gets it.
I was in hopes to have had many interesting things to tell about Dona and Marina, but a friend came for them to-day, and I could not say “No” again, as I had promised them when they were wee babies, but I shall miss them greatly, and I feel very sad and lonely to-night without my baby pets.
Those who have been fortunate enough to have read that charming little story of “Bobby and Bobbinette,” by Mrs. Talbot, will know where I found these names. Instead of being two New York children, they are two Seneca Falls robins, but the names fit as if made to order, as they are just as different as the original Bobby and Bobbinette. Bobbinette rules Bob with a rod of iron, and he meekly does as he is bid.
One bright morning in May, as I came into the yard, I saw Dona Marina sitting on the front piazza charming a nice, plump baby robin, who was perched on a water-pipe not three feetaway. She was opening and shutting her mouth, making that hissing sound, and her large green eyes were fairly glued to the robin’s black ones. Just as she was ready to spring, I called out sharply: “Dona Marina, you wicked cat, don’t you dare catch that baby bird.” She turned around in the most leisurely way, and came to meet me with the air of the innocent.
If I had not seen her with my own eyes, I never should have suspected she had the least designs on the bird. The mother bird was calling and screeching with rage in a tree near by. As soon as Dona Marina’s back was turned, the frightened bird hopped down, and went around in the back yard as fast as her baby legs could carry her.
After telling Dona Marina just what I thought of her conduct, I went after the baby, and finally caught her. But, when I brought her back to the street, there was no mother bird anywhere tobe seen or heard, and she evidently thought her darling had gone down Dona Marina’s throat.
I then told the little stranger that she was in the hands of the head nurse of “The Bird Hospital,” and would receive the best of care. I at once put her into a nice little cot, and covered her, as it is best to keep wild or strange birds in the dark for at least two days, until they get used to you and their environments.
My new patient was very hungry, so I had no trouble in getting her to take the cracker soaked in milk. The third day I put her into a canary cage (but covered), as I thought I better try and teach her to stay in a cage some of the time, and not always have her liberty, as the dear departed Cady did. She behaved unusually well, and I kept her in that for several days, taking her out many times to stretch and flop her wings.
I was then fortunate enough to havea large parrot cage loaned me. She showed great delight when I put her in, as she had plenty of room to go about, and did not show the slightest desire to get out. I knew she could if she wished, as the brass wires were very wide apart.
I was detained down-stairs, and it was later than usual when I went up to put her to bed in her cot. As I went into the room, I saw there was no baby bird in the cage.
I called out: “Oh, my baby has gone,” and a very mournful peep came back to me, which plainly said: “I am over here in this dark corner.” She had evidently tried to find me, but did not know the way down-stairs. That was the first and last time she ever ran away.
Blondell and Dona Marina had been the only occupants in the hospital for three years, with the exception of a few stray patients who only lived a very short time.
At first Dona Marina did not knowwhat to make of the robin. She knew it was entirely different from Blondell, and watched it hopping all over the floor with the greatest interest, as Blondell usually stayed in her cage. For a few days I watched her very carefully when the robin was on the floor, but she soon understood she was not to touch it, and would lie on the rug and go to sleep, while the robin played about her.
Two weeks after I rescued the robin from the jaws of death, I saw another baby robin in the back yard. The floodgates of heaven were opened wide, and the rain coming down in perfect torrents. I could not see or hear any father or mother bird, but there was a large white cat who had his eyes upon her. I spent most of my time for an hour with one eye on the bird and the other on the cat. At last I succeeded in frightening the cat away, and, as it grew dark, the bird flew up on to the grape-vine, then into a small tree. It had not stoppedraining one minute, and I could not bear to think of that dear baby up in a tree all night alone, with a prospect of the white cat making his breakfast upon it.
When it became quite dark, I took a chair out under the tree, stood up on it, reached up and put my hand over the bird. I soon found it had good lungs, and also found it was a beauty, so did not mind being covered with mud and getting almost as wet as the bird. I felt sure it was a male bird, and that the first one was a female, as that was so much lighter in colouring.
I dried orphan number two, and put him to sleep in a cot, just as I did orphan number one. The next morning I told her all that I have told to you, then brought the little stranger and put him inside the cage, expecting she would be more than pleased to have a relative for a companion, but, alas, no. I never was more mistaken in my life. She put up all the feathers in her crest, looking likea wild “Indian,” spread her wings, and was not only ready to fight, but pitched right in. The little stranger was more afraid of her than he was of the white cat, and it did not take him many seconds to get out between the bars, and fly to me for protection. But, after a few days, they became good friends, and slept every night in the cage side by side in the swing.
Then came a great discussion, “What shall I name the robins?” but it was settled for me by having the little book I spoke of sent me.
When Dona Marina saw robin number two, she acted as if she thought there were getting to be more robins in the hospital than she cared to see, but when number three arrived, her eyes grew larger than ever, and she seemed to say: “Will they never cease coming?”
I was unusually busy when a friend came with a box. I said: “I hope you have not brought anything for me totake care of, as I am almost frantic now.” She said: “Only a baby robin.” I held up my hands and exclaimed: “But I already have two.” She said: “I did not know what else to do with it. It fell out of the nest, and I could not take care of it, and I knew you would.”
The poor little thing could not even stand up, and all it knew was to open its big bill and cry for food. Of course I was simply obliged to keep it.
Few people have the slightest idea of the care and trouble of a wild baby bird. I did not want it to starve to death, so every few moments I put cracker and milk down that yawning cavity. The last thing before I got into bed at twelve o’clock I fed it, and I got up and fed it every two hours during the night. I was almost in hopes it might die, but, when morning came, it was as lively as a cricket. I at once named the third orphan Bèbè, and for two weeks it gaveto me the greatest pleasure, as well as constant care.
Bobbinette and Bobby simply hated the little stranger, and would not have the slightest thing to do with her. If I put her into their cage, they would immediately chase her out. She would fall on to the floor, as she could not fly, and get out of their way as quickly as her weak little legs could carry her. Every little while during the day, I would put her into her little white cot for a nap, and she would go to sleep at once.
Every day she grew stronger, and before many days could run about as fast as Bobbinette and Bobby, but she could not fly.
At that time Dona Marina gave birth to two beautiful kittens, consequently she was in the hospital most of the day as well as the night. At first I was afraid Dona Marina might hurt Bèbè, as Bèbè could not fly, and was usuallyon the floor when she was not taking her nap.
All there was to do was to make Dona Marina fully understand she was not to hurt or even frighten Bèbè.
I put Dona Marina on a chair, then put Bèbè beside her. By the way Bobbinette and Bobby cocked their pretty heads and puffed out their breasts, I knew they were thoroughly enjoying hearing me tell Dona Marina how very naughty they had been to Bèbè, and that she must be very kind to the little stranger, help take good care of her, and make her happy. Dona Marina nodded her wise little head, and blinked her intelligent eyes at me, smelled Bèbè all over, but never offered to bite her. In cat language she said she would always be kind, and try to take the place of her lost mother, and she kept her promise. From that day they were together almost constantly, Dona Marina lying on a chair or on the floor (when she wasnot giving her babies their dinner, as it was too warm weather to stay with them all the time), with Bèbè playing all about her.
When Bobbinette and Bobby felt very good-natured, they would ask Bèbè to play with them on the floor, but never would let her go inside their cage. If Dona Marina was trying to take a nap, they would hop all about her, chirp as loud as they could, and tell Bèbè to go and pull her tail, which she often did. Dona Marina would open her eyes, smile at her, close them, give a good stretch, and go to sleep again.
When Bèbè would hear Dona Marina and me coming up the stairs, she would run out into the hall to meet us, hop along by Dona Marina’s side into the dressing-room, hop on to the edge of her dish, and drink milk with her, and Dona Marina never gave her a cross look.
We feel sure if Bèbè had lived until the cot with the kittens in it was puton the floor, she would have gotten right in and gone to sleep with them. But dear Bèbè’s life was far too short for me, but plenty long for Bobbinette and Bobby.
One afternoon while I was out, Bèbè must have felt badly, and went down-stairs to look for me. She found her way into my mother’s room and woke her with her peeping. My mother spoke to her, but she knew it was not the voice she was accustomed to, and tried to find her way back. She was dreadfully frightened when she was finally caught, for she also knew it was not the hand that fondled her. When I returned, I saw at once there was something wrong with my baby bird, as a very bad odour was coming from her breath. I did all I could, put her to bed, and she seemed all right. The next morning she grew worse again, and in a few moments was nothing but a ball of pretty lifeless feathers. I felt sure she died of bloodpoison from the angleworms that were forced down her throat before she was brought to the hospital. The mother birds always kill the worms before feeding to their birdlings.
After Bobbinette had been in the hospital a week, as a great honour, I presented Cady’s blue and white china bath-dish to her. She acknowledged the compliment by going right in and taking a nice bath. When Bobby arrived, he did not even wait to be asked to make use of the bath-tub, but took possession at once. After that, Bobbinette positively refused to take her bath in it. Every day when I offered it to her, she would hop on to the edge, then fly away, go into the cage, scold, and try to make me understand what she meant. If I held the dish up to her, she would hop on, take a drink, and away she would go.
This went on for two weeks, then all at once it flashed through my stupidbrain that she had no intention of taking a bath in the same dish Bobby did.
I immediately went down-stairs, and came back with an oval white vegetable dish, and said: “Bobbinette, how would you like this for your very own?” She was wild with delight, and could hardly wait until it was filled; in fact, got in before the water was put in. I assure you she took a good long bath to make up for the two weeks she had been without.
The next morning, when I put the blue dish down for Bob and the white one for Bobbinette, that impertinent and presuming fellow had the face to go over to Bobbinette’s dish and say: “I think I will try the white one for a change,” and hopped on with a very grand air; but he hopped off much quicker than he hopped on, for Bobbinette flew at him and took feathers out of the top of his head. When she sees him, she will never let him go near her dish, but often she does not see him, and, if I am not there, he will take part of his bath in hers, then the rest in his own.
BOBBINETTEBOBBY
BOBBINETTEBOBBY
Lately I have made it a point to be there until he finishes, for I cannot supply a new dish for Bobbinette every few days.
They like to have me play with them by throwing the water at them, just as Cady did, and, if I sing and keep time by rapping the dish, Bob will sing with me.
Bob would take a bath twice a day if I would let him, but Bobbinette sometimes does not take one for two or three days. You see she got into bad habits the weeks she went without.
It had rained most of the time before Bobbinette and Bobby came to the hospital to live, and no doubt they had been soaked to the skin many times. When it was too late, I found I ought not to have let them bathe, for they both had bad colds. I did not know what thematter was until they began to cough, sneeze, and make all sorts of disagreeable noises. They would have driven any one who was nervous about wild, and they really annoyed me, who am not, and kept me awake many nights. I had never had birds act as they did, for they were different from a bird with the asthma. Some of my friends who knew about chickens said they had the “pip,” others the “gapes,” and told me to do this, that, and the other thing, but they kept growing worse instead of better. Finally I wrote to my old standby, George Holden, and asked what to do, as I felt it was high time to have a good counsel. They had already been eating his bird food. He wrote to me: “Do not pay any attention to the noise the robins make, add more carrot to their food, give them plenty of green food, and let them have all they want to eat; keep them warm, and they will come out all right.” I followed his advice, and, after manytrying weeks, they entirely recovered. This case was the longest, except Teddy’s, the hospital ever had.
When Bobby moulted, his feathers came in as fast as they came out, but Bobbinette must have had a high fever, for, when some of hers came out, no new ones came in. From her shoulders to the top of her head she did not have a feather for two months. She would scratch her head and pick her wings most of the time.
One day I looked her over carefully, and found the under part of her wings red and inflamed, while on the top of her head was a crust similar to the milk crust babies have.
I immediately rubbed dry sulphur all over her head and under parts of her wings, and kept it up for two weeks. By the time it was warm weather, and their colds seemed cured, I let them have their bath again, and how much they enjoyed them only they can tell. Thenthe crust began to leave Bobbinette’s head, as well as all of her crest feathers, until only three remained, and for weeks no new ones came in. It was very amusing, when Bobbinette became very angry and began to scold, to see those three feathers stand straight up as proud as if there were three dozen.
Bobby is always dignified and rarely loses his temper or ruffles his plumage, while Bobbinette very often gets mad, scolds you, strutting about with breast feathers all puffed out, and the feathers on her head standing up and her tail going like a little wren. If Bobby is taking a drink of water, and Bobbinette wants some, she never says, “By your leave,” or waits a second, but coolly takes him by the feathers of his head and puts him away, and takes possession of the water. But Bob is much more destructive than Bobbinette. They eat off of pretty Vantine china, and drank their water out of thin whiskey glasses untilBob broke four by taking them up in his bill and dropping them down on his bath-dish to hear them make a ringing sound. Now I make them use a little earthen jar, that is good and strong, and only favour them with a glass to drink their milk out of when they go down to the parlour for their singing lesson.
One day Bob took a lovely china pin-tray off of my dressing-table and threw it on the floor, breaking it in many pieces. Another day I found him out in the hall with my string of gold beads, shaking them as if he thought they were an angleworm. He had bitten two beads until they were almost flat. Like many small boys, he thinks matches are about the nicest things to play with, and I often find them thrown in all directions.
Dona Marina’s kittens had been given away before they were old enough to take much notice of Blondell, but her new kittens, Blonde and Brunette, livedwith the birds many weeks. Blonde was white with tortoise-shell markings, and twice as large as Brunette, who was just like her black mother.
Blonde was gentle in all of her ways, while Brunette was just the opposite. Blonde would wake me in the morning by gently tapping my cheek with her big, soft white paw. Brunette would come with a rush and land on the top of my head. I did not have the least trouble in teaching Blonde not to spring at the birds, but I had a great deal with Brunette before I could make her understand that she was not to slap them with her tiny black velvet paw.
One day I was really surprised myself when I went into the room to find Blonde sound asleep in front of Blondell’s cage on the platform, Brunette asleep in the gravel, and Bobbinette and Bobby on the perches above them. It proved they had learned their lessons well, and I never worried about them after that.
I was very anxious to get a picture of them altogether, so had the old perches brought up that had been put away so long. For a week I posed them every day. Dona Marina on “Teddy’s piazza,” Blonde in the side with the food, Brunette in the gravel, Bobbinette and Bobby on the perches, and Blondell in her usual place. It made a pretty picture, I assure you.
The photographer was very busy, and by the time he could come, it was impossible to have Dona Marina in the group, as she had weaned her babies and hated every hair in their dear little bodies. For two weeks she did nothing but growl and spit every time she saw them, besides slapping them hard if they came within her reach. Brunette would slap back, but lovable little Blonde would look at her in a sad, astonished way.
One day, when Dona Marina came in and could not find her babies, after looking all over the lower part of the house,she fairly beamed, and we never heard another growl, but it was many weeks before she went to the hospital.
One day I tried carrying her up, but she fought so hard I had to let her go. I tried again, and got her inside and put her on the bed. She smelled it all over, then simply flew out, and down-stairs she went. The next time when I got her inside, I closed the door. When she found she could not get out, she examined every corner, went under everything, and, when she finally made up her mind there were no kittens hidden away, she jumped into my lap and began to sing. She wants to be all in all to me, and is jealous of everything and everybody.
But to go back to the picture, that was a day long to be remembered. When I asked the photographer to take it, he looked at me as if he thought I had just escaped from a lunatic hospital, and said: “I can take a picture of a bird or a cat,but to take one of birds and cats together, I think it would be quite impossible.” I was determined if possible to have the picture taken, so said: “But you do not know me, my cats, or my birds.”
At last he came to please me, not expecting to get any kind of a picture. I told him to come right after luncheon, as Blonde and Brunette were sleepy at that time, but instead, it was between four and five o’clock. Bobbinette and Bob had only been used to our boy coming into the hospital, so, when two men appeared, it was quite enough to frighten the wits out of them, but their bringing all of their machines made it ten times worse. They flew here, there, and everywhere, out into the hall, back again, lighting upon my head and shoulders. It took a long time to get them quiet, but the men made as little noise as possible, and were very patient.
After Bobbinette and Bobby became a little used to them, I looked up Blondeand Brunette. They were just fresh from their nap, and wanted to do anything but mind and sit still. Several times I thought it was going to be even beyond me to get them all quiet at once.
At last it was accomplished. Bang! went the machine, vivid light, dense smoke, Bobbinette and Bobby flying in every direction and screeching as only robins can; Blonde and Brunette running all over the floor, growling, spitting, and hissing, but the deed was done. When we saw the picture, we all felt repaid for our trouble, and the birds and kittens for being so frightened. And the photographer, by the way, found after all that he could take a picture of birds and kittens together.
That was the beginning of quite a little work, which took a great deal of time, nervous strength, and patience, but with it all we derived a great deal of pleasure, and the birds seemed to thoroughly enjoy being naughty.
BLONDEBOBBYBLONDELLBOBBINETTEBRUNETTE
BLONDEBOBBYBLONDELLBOBBINETTEBRUNETTE
Just at this time a young Italian came to town, fresh from a school of photography, who had plenty of time to give to us. His kindness and patience was fully appreciated and never will be forgotten. The birds liked him, too, as he was always gentle, spoke kindly, and never a cross word did we hear, no matter how provoking they were. The group with Bobbinette and Bobby, Dick, Dona Marina, Blondell and me took two whole evenings to get.
Just as the photographer would think they were all in good position, Bobbinette would turn her back; then, when she turned around, Bobby would get down and go out into the back parlour. As no one could manage them but me, I would have to get up, taking Dick and Blondell in my left hand, Dona Marina under my left arm, and go after Bobby. Dona Marina did not care how many birds were on her back if she could lie on my lap, but Blondell was as slipperyas an eel, and, when all the others were ready, off from Dona Marina’s back she would go, and I would have to get down again and go after her, holding tight to Dick and Dona Marina.
One day during summer we had a patient the like of which we had never had before. It was a wee brown puppy, but where she came from we never found out. Her coming was heralded by Dona Marina’s jumping on to her back and slapping and biting her. The birds and I rushed to the window when we heard the noise; the puppy was crying lustily, as she was too young to fight. The next thing they came tearing into the hospital, and for a few moments one would have thought the room was filled with wild animals.
For two days there was constant trouble and commotion in the hospital, and I felt if I did not find her a good home (which I did), all of my patients would have nervous prostration.